In the event, he’d realised the sticker merely referred to the password she’d used to protect the files, which he’d worked out after a couple of tries to be ‘Lowry’, after the hotel where it had happened. Where she’d tricked him into thinking she was his wife and, like a dumb idiot, he’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. He’d never forgiven himself for that – and he’d never managed to find a way to tell Hannah either. He’d wanted to, particularly at the start when the guilt felt like a gaping wound in his chest. But he’d been so ashamed. How could he have not known the difference between the twins? What kind of husband did that make him?
It probably ought to have been the first thing he’d told Hannah when she’d finally learned the truth via Diane’s letter, because it was obviously better than a deliberate act of infidelity. But having kept the truth from Hannah for so long – telling so many lies in the process – he hadn’t been able to find the right words. Also, it somehow felt wrong to reveal this about Diane in light of the fact she’d killed herself.
Thankfully, she’d done it for him in the video she’d made for her sister. She’d chosen her words very carefully in the video for Mia too, leaving the choice of how and when to tell her that he was her father firmly in his own hands. Mark’s current view was to show Mia the video message now – just the one meant for her, not the other – and wait to tell her any more until a calmer, more suitable time. Possibly a good way into the future. It all depended on Hannah, really, and how she reacted to these videos, because if things were over between them, then the whole thing would be up in the air. But if she was at least prepared to try to work on repairing their marriage, going to relationship counselling perhaps, whatever it took, maybe the three of them could make a go of it as a family, like Diane wanted.
Of course, not telling Mia the full truth now could eventually backfire spectacularly. But how could the poor girl be expected to process the idea of her uncle – her mum’s twin sister’s husband – being her father, while she was still grieving for her mother? No, as far as Mark was concerned, that and any potential DNA testing that might emerge as a result were definitely best kept for the future.
In Hannah’s absence, he and Mia had continued to get closer. They’d spoken a number of times about how she was feeling, which had led to several bouts of tears; he was just pleased she felt able to open up to him. Telling her about his own experience of losing his brother, Pete, had been the right move. Not that their discussions about Mia’s emotions had been particularly detailed. Most of the time it had been a case of her saying she felt sad, numb, confused or angry and him nodding in response, telling her it was normal to feel that way and good to keep talking about it. It wasn’t like he was a trained therapist or anything. He was doing his best, although he knew she’d get more insight and useful advice from Hannah, who knew first-hand what it was like to lose a mother and also had the advantage of being Diane’s twin sister.
Mia had asked a couple of times about how things were going with Hannah and when she would be coming home. Her unexplained absence was obviously bothering her, so he’d played the seriousness of the situation down, telling her not to worry and that things should be back to normal soon. If only he was so confident of this in reality.
The hardest conversation so far had been when Mia had queried whether Mark knew why Diane might have killed herself, based on the time he’d spent with her. Fortunately, he’d suspected she might ask this, so he’d had an answer ready-prepared. ‘Goodness knows what must have been going through her mind,’ he’d said. ‘She seemed quite upbeat when I said goodbye to her. I’d never have guessed what she was about to do. One thing I can definitely tell you is that it had nothing to do with you. She loved you so much and she was so proud of you. That was really obvious from the chat we had. We spoke about you at length. She wanted to know everything you’d been up to in Manchester and kept saying how much she missed you.’
‘If that’s true, why would she do what she did?’ Mia had replied with a catch in her voice. ‘Why would she leave me without even saying goodbye? Do you reckon … maybe she was ill or something?’
‘Um, what makes you say that? Did she seem ill to you? Had she been seeing a doctor or anything?’
‘Not that she told me, but … I don’t know. I guess she just didn’t seem like herself recently. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if she could have been hiding something from me. She seemed to be tired a lot in the last few weeks before we came here, and she’d lost weight. There were a few times when she had a belly ache too. She told me it was because of her time of the month, but it seemed to happen more regularly than that.’
Mia had fallen quiet after saying these words, like they were eating her up inside. This had made Mark feel awful and desperate to let her see Diane’s video. However, having already decided to show it to Hannah first to get her opinion, he’d forced himself to hold back.
‘There’s no point thinking about that stuff, love,’ he’d told her instead. ‘If she was ill and had wanted you to know, she’d have told you. Parents often try to protect their children from such things so they don’t worry.’
‘I’d rather be worried and still have a mum,’ Mia had said in little more than a whisper, her words like a hammer to Mark’s heart. He’d stayed silent, for what reply could he have offered her?
On a more light-hearted note, Mia had confessed something to Mark that had sounded very serious when she’d first mentioned it, but had actually amused rather than annoyed him. ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ she’d said as they’d sat down to eat some pasta he’d cooked for their dinner yesterday. ‘You and Hannah have been so good to me and, well, I feel awful for not coming clean about this sooner.’
‘That, um, sounds serious,’ Mark had said, placing his fork down in his bowl and giving Mia his full attention
Her face had turned bright red. ‘It is. I stole something from you.’
‘Okay. What was it? Have you returned it now?’
‘I would have, but I can’t. It’s gone. I can’t buy another one myself either, but I’ll definitely pay to replace it.’
‘I see. So how about you tell me what it was you took?’
Mia had looked down at the table as she’d replied. ‘It was a small bottle of alcohol. Kirsch, I think it was called. I found it under the sink. It was before Mum, um … when she was still alive and I was worried about stuff. I thought if I got a bit drunk, I might feel better. Less anxious.’
Mark had had to bite the inside of his lip to avoid smiling; to remind himself he needed to be parental rather than reminisce about similar escapades of his own as a teenager. Kirsch, though: what a choice of alcohol to swipe. They only kept it in the cupboard for the very occasional time when they had a cheese fondue. It was unlikely they’d have even missed it. Mark had never tried actually drinking kirsch, but based on the smell, it probably tasted foul, especially to a teenager unused to alcohol.
‘I see,’ he’d replied. ‘So you drank it?’
‘No, I dropped it. I didn’t drink any at all.’
‘Where were you at the time? Who were you with? Todd?’
She hesitated for a second before replying: ‘No, I was alone. It was in town, in a back alley near the library. I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again, I promise.’
Mark had told her he was glad she’d come clean and the important thing was that no one had got hurt. But he’d added: ‘Please never do anything like that again, Mia. Promise me? Alcohol is very dangerous, particularly spirits. You can die from drinking too much and, as a young, vulnerable teenage girl, you risk getting yourself taken advantage of, or worse.’
‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’
‘Is drinking alcohol something you do when you’re out with your friends at home?’
‘No, honestly it isn’t. I’ve tried it literally twice at parties, but that’s it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.’
Mark hadn’t had the heart to punish
her after what she’d already been through and everything she still had to face, such as her mum’s funeral and moving house. Plus she’d confessed of her own volition, which was impressive. In truth, he hadn’t a clue what would be an appropriate punishment anyway, thanks to his total lack of experience as a parent. He suspected Hannah would know. She was much better than him at these kinds of things: yet another reason why he so desperately hoped they could resolve their problems.
As Mark continued walking in the present, his mind occupied by the past, his phone finally rang. It was Hannah.
‘Hello?’ he said, his fingers having fumbled to pull the mobile out of his pocket and answer the call. ‘Can I come back now?’
‘No,’ Hannah’s voice replied.
Mark’s heart sank. ‘Oh, okay. What—’
‘I do want to see you, but not here. I need to get outside. Find some fresh air. Where are you now? Is it still raining?’
‘Um.’ Mark looked up at the sky. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts and memories, he’d barely noticed the weather while he’d been pacing around. It had been raining earlier, right? Hence his damp hair and clothes. But now it was dry. He could even see a glimmer of sunshine peeking out through the clouds.
Mark looked at his wife, sitting next to him on the bench in Piccadilly Gardens. He wanted to kiss her, squeeze her tight, hold her hand. But he didn’t dare push things, so he gave her the sweetest smile he could muster. ‘I don’t know what to say, Hannah. This is … you are … amazing. Are you sure? I really don’t want to rush you. You can take all the time you need.’
‘It sounds like you don’t want me to come back to the apartment with you,’ Hannah replied, looking more beautiful than ever to him in that moment, despite her tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
‘No, not at all. There’s nothing I want more – and I know Mia will be over the moon to see you too. She’s been worried.’
Hannah frowned. ‘How much did you tell her?’
‘Only what I had to. Nothing specific. Just that we had a row and you were upset.’
‘Things between us aren’t going to return to normal straight away. You realise that, don’t you, Mark? It’ll be a long time, if ever, before I feel like I can really trust you again. All those lies over so many years. You should have trusted me with the truth from the start. I need you to be one hundred per cent honest with me – no exceptions – from this point on. That’s the only way we have a chance of making this work.’
‘Of course. No more lies, I promise. I’m so happy you’re giving us another chance. As long as it takes. Whatever you need. You’re in the driving seat.’
‘Good. And you’re definitely okay with the idea of us taking in Mia permanently; being her guardians, like Diane wanted? What about Pete? What about never wanting to have children?’
‘Things change. I’ve changed. She’s a great kid, despite her mother, and it’s absolutely the right thing to do – the only thing. I’ve no doubts whatsoever. I just hope Frank’s happy. He’s not likely to challenge it, is he, on the basis that he’s had a lot more to do with Mia over the years?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t see why, especially if that’s what it says in Diane’s will and since she specifically left her with us. Dad’s not getting any younger and can you really see Joan wanting to take a teenager into her oh-so-perfect house?’
‘True. So we’re agreed to show Mia her mum’s video straight away but not to say anything about me being her father for now? That can wait until sometime in the future, when we both think it’s best, right?’
Mark couldn’t help but notice Hannah wince at the mention of the paternity issue, but she replied: ‘Yes, agreed.’
Would there need to be a DNA test eventually to confirm Diane had been telling the truth? Possibly. Probably. But that was a matter for another day. There were other, more pressing matters to deal with in the meantime, like trying to repair his marriage – to never let his beloved Hannah down again – and to make the best life possible for Mia. It was going to be incredibly hard for her to move past the death of her mum unscathed, but by offering her their love and support and a permanent place in their hearts and home, they could at least give her a fighting chance.
Slowly, tentatively, Mark lowered his right hand on to Hannah’s left, which was resting between them on the bench. She flinched as he first made contact, causing him to jerk it back up. But then he looked into his wife’s eyes and, despite the hurt still clearly visible, they told him that small step forward was all right. So he gently lowered it again and rested it on top of her hand, surprised how cold her skin felt, his fingers sliding in between the gaps of hers.
For several long minutes they remained like that, neither making a sound as life moved on around them in that busy, noisy pocket of central Manchester. Then Hannah spoke a handful of words that would have sounded innocuous to a passer-by but meant so very much to Mark. They made his heart skip with hope.
‘Okay. Let’s go home, shall we?’
EPILOGUE
Several days later
Mia entered the crematorium to the sound of an organ playing something sombre. Everything was a blur. Lots of people had been gathered outside the chapel when she’d arrived, but she hadn’t been able to focus on any of them. They’d all merged into one mass: a sea of glum faces and dark outfits. None of what was happening seemed real. She didn’t even feel like she was actually there, in her own skin, but rather an observer watching from afar.
‘Are you okay, love?’ she heard her grandad’s voice whisper from nearby, accompanied by a gentle touch on her arm.
She nodded in reply, even though she clearly wasn’t okay. Her eyes remained trained on her black leather school shoes, which were shuffling forward on autopilot, led by her aunt and uncle. Hannah was holding her hand and Mark had his arm wrapped supportively around her lower back. They guided her to a pew at the front of the chapel. But she couldn’t look at them. She couldn’t look at anyone. The only face she wanted to see was the one she couldn’t – and never would for real again.
As she sat down on the hard wooden bench, Mia realised that, despite everyone else present, she’d never felt more alone in her life. She cast the briefest of glances at the light-wood coffin a few metres in front of her and it was like she’d been thumped in the stomach, leaving her winded and nauseous. The idea of her mum’s body, or whatever was left of it, being in there, so close to her, was awful. She felt an urge to run – to get as far away from all of this as possible. And then a cool, calm hand came to rest on her bare knee and gave it a squeeze of reassurance: Hannah.
‘Don’t worry,’ her aunt whispered close to her ear, in that voice so similar to her mother’s. ‘You can do this. We’re going to get through this together. I’m right here next to you – and so is Mark.’
‘I am,’ her uncle said into her other ear. ‘We’ve got you, Mia. You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.’
She allowed herself one look at Hannah, who looked so like her mum today, with her hair tied up in a bun and her kind blue eyes, that it almost felt like it was her. And although Mia knew the painful truth only too well, she let that slight feeling of relief wash over her for a moment. She closed her eyes and imagined the person she missed so much – every minute of every day – really was at her side.
In her mind’s eye she pictured the two of them walking hand in hand along the beach on a sunny day like they used to so often when she was younger. They were both barefoot and on the edge of the water as the tide slowly clawed its way towards land, lapping over their toes at regular intervals. The water’s cool, eager swirl soothed away the anger and confusion Mia had felt ever since learning of Diane’s suicide, leaving only sorrow and love.
‘I’ve been dreading this day, Mum,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to let you go. I don’t want to. I can’t bear the thought of you not being in my life any more. I love you so much.’
‘I know, my darling. I feel the same. You’re so incred
ibly precious to me. I’ll never truly leave you. You know that, right? You grew inside me. My blood runs through your veins. I’ll always be there if you look deep enough. Now go and be strong for me. You can do this.’
Mia opened her eyes as the white-haired celebrant began to speak into the microphone at the front of the chapel and the funeral service began. She did her best to listen to the warm words this kindly man said about her mother, having spoken to her family and friends. But still she felt detached from the proceedings, like she was in a dream and might wake up at any moment. She spent more of her time focusing on the photo they’d selected for the front of the order of service: a snap Mia had taken on her phone the previous summer. It showed her mum looking so happy, sipping a glass of wine on a blanket on the beach, during an impromptu picnic they’d enjoyed together one balmy evening. Little had they known what a cruel fate awaited them a stone’s throw into their future.
When Mia’s grandad took to the microphone to speak, reality kicked in; the numbness that had protected her so far was stripped away as she focused on his familiar figure. He looked so frail, standing there in his black suit and tie, arms quivering as he gripped the lectern before him and spoke from the heart.
‘I thought losing my first wife was hard,’ he announced to the busy room with a catch in his throat. Then, after taking a slow, deep breath, he added: ‘But let me tell you, nothing prepares you for the agony of losing a daughter.’
Pausing again, blinking repeatedly in a futile bid to stem his tears, he exhaled into the microphone. ‘Your children never fully grow up in your heart. Part of you always thinks of them as the little ones they once were. So how can my precious girl have gone before me?’
My Sister's Lies Page 27