‘Thank you,’ she replied in a tiny voice.
They tidied up the kitchen together. Then Mark told Mia to amuse herself for a few minutes while he tried to contact her aunt. ‘We’ll find a good movie after that, okay? But if you want to start looking and come up with a few suggestions, be my guest.’
CHAPTER 23
Mark walked through to the bedroom, a sinking feeling in his stomach at the prospect of what Hannah might have to say to him. And that was assuming she answered his call in the first place.
He’d been considering where she might have gone ever since Mia had told him about her leaving – and the most likely place he could think of, assuming it was local and not a hotel, was Laura and Ralph’s house in Prestwich. It was a decent-sized four-bedroom semi they’d moved to with a view to filling it with a family: something that had never happened, thanks to their fertility issues and various failed IVF attempts. There was plenty of room to accommodate a guest anyway, and although it was about four miles north of the city centre, it was easily and quickly reachable by tram. Plus, unlike a hotel, it came with a friend ready to listen to her problems. At least if Hannah was there he didn’t have to worry about her safety.
He pulled his mobile out of the pocket of his shorts and stared at it before switching the screen on. No messages or missed calls. Damn. He’d deliberately not checked it while in the kitchen with Mia, knowing it was on silent. As each minute had passed, he’d hoped against hope that the chances of Hannah contacting him might have increased. But of course she hadn’t done so. Why would she? If his wife had wanted him to know where she was and what she was doing, she’d have told him before leaving.
He called her number and held the phone up to his ear as a wave of anxiety set his stomach churning. It rang several times before going to voicemail.
‘Hi, Hannah,’ he said into his phone. ‘It’s Mark. Mia tells me she saw you heading out and, well, I totally get that you need some space. You must be going through hell at the moment; I wish more than anything that I wasn’t in any way responsible. It might not seem like it right now, but I love you so much. What happened with Diane all those years ago … it isn’t as straightforward as you might think. There are things I’d like to try to explain to you, if you’ll let me; whenever you’re ready. For now, though, please could you at least let me know you’re okay and somewhere safe?’
Mark ended the call. He had considered mentioning that Mia was concerned about her, but thought better of it. This was between him and Hannah.
Would her discovery affect how she felt about Mia? It was bound to change the way she looked at her to some degree, but Mark felt certain his wife wouldn’t let it harm her newly rekindled relationship with her niece. Hannah’s love, affection and sympathy for Mia would prevail, he was sure.
Unfortunately, he was far less confident about the direction their marriage would take from here. Hannah walking out on him was totally justified in the circumstances – and yet he hadn’t predicted it. He’d expected her to kick him out instead. Now he desperately wanted to explain to Hannah what had really happened between him and Diane that night. This was crucial. Their whole future depended on it.
Meanwhile, ironically, Mark felt like he and Mia had grown closer tonight. He was glad he’d told her about Pete’s death. The hug afterwards had been a lovely surprise. Considering how little they actually knew each other, he wouldn’t have dared to instigate it himself, for fear of being inappropriate. But coming from her, it had been so sweet; for the first time he’d genuinely felt that maybe they could make the father/daughter thing work somehow. He’d have to tell her the truth first, however, and there was a good chance this revelation would in fact have the opposite effect and drive her away.
What he hadn’t explained to Mia about Pete’s death was the profound, long-term impact it had had on his family and his whole outlook on life. This, as he’d confirmed to Hannah a long time ago, was a key reason he’d decided he’d never wanted children.
He’d instigated the chat on a freezing winter’s night in Didsbury, where they’d lived at the time, both still in their twenties. It was a conversation designed as a precursor to popping the question; a way to ensure they were on the same page in terms of their future together. Having considered the matter at length, he’d finally plucked up the courage to actually say the words after a boozy meal out together.
‘I don’t really get children and I don’t want to be responsible for bringing another life into this world.’ That was how he’d phrased it to her, emphasising that this was not going to change. Then he’d risked everything by giving her the chance to walk away if she absolutely couldn’t live without having a family.
They’d discussed the subject before, but never head-on like this. Mark had always got the impression that Hannah felt, wrongly, she would be able to change his mind when the time was right. So although giving her an ultimatum – choose me or kids – might have seemed cruel on the surface, to him it had felt like the most decent, honest course of action he could take.
‘Is it because of what happened to your brother, Pete?’ she’d gone on to ask him.
‘That’s not the only reason,’ he’d replied, ‘but yes. I think his death and what it did to the rest of us is definitely a huge part of it.’
Hannah had nodded pensively before adding: ‘Sometimes horrendous things happen. That’s the reality of life. But don’t you think maybe the best response is to carry on regardless; to live our lives as fully as we can rather than in fear?’
Mark had understood her argument, but his mind had been made up on this matter long ago and there was zero chance of him being swayed.
‘I’m not living my life in fear,’ he’d replied. ‘I’m being selective and choosing my own path, based on my experiences and beliefs. Lots of people want children and that’s fine. I don’t. I know that’s not the most common way of thinking, but that doesn’t make it wrong. It’s right for me. Whether it’s also right for you, Hannah, is your choice, and I’ll respect that absolutely. Sometimes the best way to show you love someone is to let them go rather than hold them back.’
‘Isn’t love also about compromise, though: give and take?’
‘Yes, but I can’t compromise on this. I’m sorry. It’s a decision I made a long time ago and I won’t change my mind.’
If Mark had to pinpoint the exact moment he’d reached this conclusion, it would be the day his dad, Patrick Cook, had left. That had been a year or so after Pete’s death, which had devastated them all, but his father in particular. A self-employed electrician by trade, he’d stopped working in the aftermath of the tragedy and had fallen into a severe depression. From then on he’d spent his days staring blankly at the TV and drinking endless pints of homebrew, the creation of which was about the only thing that got him out of his armchair other than using the toilet and going to bed.
Meanwhile, Alma Cook, Mark’s mum, had had to hold things together by working all hours as a cleaner: houses by day and offices by night. They’d both been dealing with their grief in different ways, with Mark stuck in the middle and left largely to his own devices. Then, one day, when he’d got into trouble at school for skipping classes with some other lads, despite usually being a model student, Alma had exploded. She’d held Mark’s dad responsible, telling him enough was enough and it was time to pull himself together for the sake of his family. When Mark had got home the next day, the house had been empty. Patrick had gone, never to return or show any further interest in his remaining son.
He’d only seen him a handful of times since, usually pissed out of his head, drinking in the street or coming out of some dive bar or another. Last Mark had heard, he was living in a council flat somewhere in Reddish. He didn’t have the address. What use would he have for it? As far as he was concerned, he didn’t have a father any more.
Patrick had been a normal dad before Pete had been killed: out at work every day and around at home more often than not at night and on the weekends. Not th
e best father in the world, perhaps, in that he was very much a hands-off parent, but not the worst either. He’d never got physical with either of his sons or his wife, which was more than could be said for the dads of some of Mark’s school friends. Thankfully, that hadn’t changed after Pete’s death, but he’d certainly become a lot more bad-tempered, snapping at him and his mum over the slightest thing and showing little interest in anything other than drinking his beer and watching his programmes on the box.
Parents weren’t supposed to show favouritism towards one child over another, were they? Well, Mark had suspected from a young age that his brother was his dad’s favourite. Patrick had always seemed to side with Pete when the two of them had argued about anything. He’d generally had more time for him too. Mark had tried to convince himself it was because Pete was so much younger; deep down, however, he’d sensed it was more than that, which Patrick’s reaction to his death had more or less confirmed. Who knew why? Mark had long since given up caring.
But it was the fact that Patrick had abandoned him and his mother, without warning or explanation, that would forever define Mark’s view of his dad. What kind of father did that? All three of them had lost Pete; Patrick’s selfish response to an awful situation had only made it worse. Hence it had sealed the deal in terms of Mark’s decision not to have children. Not only had he seen first-hand what losing a child could do to a parent; he also feared the possibility of becoming a bad one, like his father.
The irony was that he had become a version of his father, regardless. It may not have been deliberate on his part, but Mia had grown up without him so far. So now, one way or another, it was his responsibility to change that. At least he’d had one good role model to help him do so in the shape of his mother.
Alma had never been anything short of a fantastic parent, working her heart out to make up for Patrick’s absence and pushing Mark in the right direction through school and university to play to his academic strengths. Unlike Patrick, she’d never shown any favouritism while Pete was around either.
Mark was very aware of the key role Alma had played in shaping his life. Without her guiding and inspiring him as a youngster, he’d never have found himself in such a fortunate financial position today. He enjoyed spoiling her in return whenever he got the chance. He’d encouraged her to retire at the earliest possible opportunity, which she now had. He’d even offered to help her move to a nice little apartment somewhere nearby in the city centre, but she’d preferred to stay in the terraced house where he’d grown up in Stockport.
‘This is my home and it has been for years,’ she’d explained. ‘My life’s here. All my friends and so on. Why would I want to move?’
‘Okay, Mum,’ he’d replied. ‘I understand. Wherever you’re most happy. But if there are any improvements you’d like – a new bathroom perhaps, or whatever you fancy – I’d love to make that happen.’
Not that she’d taken him up on this offer so far. She was a woman of simple tastes, bless her. But he had at least managed to treat her to a couple of coach trips abroad. And thanks to him, she had arguably the best set of bowls out of anyone in the club where she’d started playing.
His mum had always respected his decision not to have children, while still making it clear she would have liked him to, nonetheless. He recalled what she’d told him five years earlier, having taken him aside for a private word on his fortieth birthday.
‘I understand your reluctance,’ she’d said, ‘but you are not your father and you shouldn’t be led by his failures. Having children is an amazing gift. Losing our little Pete was horrendous. I still miss him every single day; I always will. But not for an instant have I ever wished he wasn’t born at all. He brought so much joy into the world in his short time here. And I’ll always have those memories to counter the bad ones. It’s your right not to have children, Mark. For the record, though, I think you and Hannah would make damn fine parents.’
Her message had been clear: there was time to change their minds, but it was last-chance saloon. Hannah had been thirty-seven at that point: still of child-bearing age, but not for too much longer.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ Mark had said, shrugging before pulling her into a hug. ‘I love you to bits, but it’s not going to happen.’
Looking on the bright side of recent events, maybe he would, after all, be able to give Alma the grandchild she longed for, even if Mia wasn’t quite the tiny bundle of joy she might have pictured.
What if his mum had been right all along about him and Hannah raising a child together? Would they ever get the chance to find out now that he’d blown things so spectacularly with her, the woman he adored? She was his wife, his best friend, the love of his life. The idea of being without her terrified him. So could he somehow manage to do the impossible and fix their marriage?
One way or another, Mark knew he had to do the right thing by Mia, like Alma had by him after Pete’s death and Patrick’s desertion. But how much better would life be for Mia – for both of them – if he could do so together with her aunt? Hannah wasn’t Mia’s mother and never would be. But how could anyone be a better fit to raise her in Diane’s place?
Glancing over at his phone, still on silent, he noticed a text had arrived from Hannah, which he opened up.
I’m okay and somewhere safe.
That was it. That was the entire message. She’d taken his voicemail request literally. Better than nothing, though. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and exited the bedroom.
‘Coming, ready or not, Mia,’ he said in a feeble attempt to inject some levity into the situation. ‘Have you found something good for us to watch?’
CLIENT SESSION TRANSCRIPT: HCOOK090819
H: I’m sorry to start off crying … I told myself I wasn’t going to do this … If you could please give me a moment?
S: Of course. Take your time, Hannah.
H: Thanks. Let me grab a tissue or two.
S: Help yourself. Can I get you a glass of water?
H: No, I’m fine, thank you. I had a couple in the waiting room. Right. Okay, I think I’m ready to carry on now. I’ve had some devastating news, on top of Diane’s death. After I saw you yesterday, I found a letter my sister had written to Mark. In it she revealed that … I’m sorry, this is hard to say … Diane revealed that he, um, is Mia’s dad.
S: Your Mark? He’s the mysterious father your sister never revealed? My God! You poor thing. Have you confronted him about it? Has he admitted it’s true?
H: Yes, we had a short conversation. He swore to me they’d only ever slept together once, all those years ago; that it was a huge mistake he’s regretted ever since. It also seems he knew nothing about being Mia’s father until the letter, which Diane wrote in our apartment during her recent visit. But none of that helps. Obviously I’m in bits, as you can see. I walked out. I’m staying with friends. Mark’s been the one constant in my life for so long. I trusted him completely – and now I learn he’s betrayed me in the worst imaginable way. He also gave her the one thing he’s always kept me from having: a child. You wouldn’t believe how much that part in particular hurts, even though it doesn’t appear to have been deliberate. I feel like my whole world has collapsed. Where on earth do I go from here, Sally?
S: Well, I think going to stay with your friends for a while was a sensible move. Clearly this is a complicated situation and you need time away from it to allow yourself to think. My advice would be to avoid making any hasty decisions while everything is so raw and emotional. And although I understand you might not want to see him at all right now, I think you do need to talk it over in more detail with Mark, to find out exactly what happened and why.
H: I guess so. Just thinking about him sleeping with my sister makes me feel physically sick at the moment, though. And it’s hard to comprehend all the lies they must have told between them. I feel angry rather than surprised at Diane. But Mark? I can’t express how distressing his betrayal feels, how agonising. It’s like I don’t know my own husb
and at all. I didn’t think he was capable of this. I thought he loved me. Honestly, Sally, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so conflicted before in my life. My emotions are all over the place, particularly in relation to Diane. I hate her for doing this to me. And yet she’s gone forever – my flesh and blood. I still wish she wasn’t, even though that’s partly because I want to shout and scream at her; to slap her around the face. What an absolute nightmare!
S: How are you feeling in yourself? You seem to be holding up pretty well, considering.
H: I feel too angry to let this break me. I might not be able to stop the tears falling, but I’m not going to allow myself to go to pieces over this. Strong, successful, confident: I have those words playing on repeat in my head. I’m using them to try to drown out all the negative stuff.
S: Excellent. That’s very good to hear. What about Mia? Does she know what you’ve learned?
H: No, not to my knowledge. Goodness knows how she’ll react when she does find out.
S: Do you think this will affect your relationship with her?
H: I hope not. It wouldn’t be fair on her, particularly so soon after losing her mum. And do you know what? I think it could be me and Mark who Diane named as Mia’s guardians in her will. We agreed to it years ago, before she and I fell out, and I have a feeling she won’t have changed it. I think that might even be why she left Mia with us in the first place, knowing she intended to kill herself. And so things get messier still.
S: Do you think you could make that work?
H: I don’t even know if Mark and I have a future as a married couple right now, so—
S: What about without this latest revelation? In a world where Mark hadn’t cheated on you with Diane and Mia wasn’t his daughter, would you be able to picture the three of you making a go of it?
H: Um, yes. I mean, I already gave that a little thought before finding Diane’s letter to Mark. My view then was that we could try to make it work. I know Mark and I are used to a certain child-free way of life, with the luxury holidays and impromptu city breaks; the regular nights out to dinner followed by a concert or the theatre. But how much does any of that really matter? I’ve not missed it while she’s been staying with us. And it’s not like you can’t do any of those things when you’re a parent anyway. There’s just a bit more organising involved. Plus I always wanted to have a family, as we discussed before. Mark didn’t, but he was there when we agreed to be Mia’s guardians should anything happen to Diane. And surely she’s the person who should be considered above anyone else in this matter. She’s lost her mother. She’s family. The only other realistic option, as far as I can see, would be for her to go and live with my father and his wife, Joan. But he’s already sixty-seven and Joan is, well, not the easiest or most flexible woman to get along with, to put it kindly.
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