‘I will. It was great to see you.’
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Her face turned a shade of pink to match her lips, and he wondered if he’d been right all those years ago when he’d suspected she’d had a thing for him, and if he should have taken advantage of it.
He watched her run across the road and get into a silver Renault Clio. She waved to him as she passed. He waved back and made as if he were searching for something in the glove compartment. When he was sure she was out of sight, he got out of the car, went round to the boot and brought the last black bag into the shop.
The woman was sitting at the counter now, reading a magazine. She nodded and got off the stool when he entered. ‘Just put it over here, love,’ she said, pointing to a pile of bags yet to be sorted. He was about to turn away when she spoke again. ‘It’s a difficult thing having to get rid of someone’s belongings. When my husband died, I couldn’t bring myself to clean out his wardrobe. I’d take out a shirt and I could smell him off it. It was like he was in the room with me. But it’s better that you do it, you have to move on. She wouldn’t want you mourning.’
Oliver nodded, solemnly. ‘No, she wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘She was full of life. That was the thing I loved most about her – her energy.’
He left the shop feeling strangely bereft. He got into the car and drove slowly away feeling as though he’d left something behind. He thought of Adrienne. Maybe he should’ve told her that Mercedes had left him. It would have aroused her sympathy and maybe they’d have acted on that spark from the past. He hated to go home to an empty house. It was lonely in the evenings and he needed a distraction; someone to keep the ghosts away.
Joanna stared down at her mother, who refused to meet her eye. ‘So all that stuff you said about not knowing who my father was – that was all lies. Why? Why couldn’t you have told me?’
Angela looked past her and through the open door to where, minutes before, the woman had stood. ‘I honestly thought it was for the best,’ she said.
Joanna looked at her hard. ‘How? I mean, all those years you said it was a one-night stand, that you didn’t know what happened to the guy. Did you not think that at some point I’d find out, that we might walk into him in the street or that he’d come looking for me?’
Her mother shook her head. She was still carefully avoiding her eye. Joanna stopped pacing and stood before her.
‘Mother, please – give me something to go on here. I mean, what was his name even? Vince what?’
Angela stood up and tightened the belt of her robe. ‘Joanna, can we just not do this now? It’s late. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll tell you everything, but not tonight. Surely, you can understand … it’s … it’s been a terrible shock.’
‘That woman, who is she?’ Joanna said, ignoring her mother’s plea.
Angela put a hand to her head as though it ached. ‘Rachel. Rachel Arnold, Vince’s wife.’
Arnold. At least she had a name – assuming that the wife had taken his. ‘And did he know – about me?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, what was the deal then? If he knew, why could you not tell me? Why did you have to pretend?’
Her mother looked at her now – eyes tired, face drawn. ‘I didn’t tell you because you’d have wanted to find him. You’d have wanted to know who he was – and I didn’t want that – he didn’t want that.’
‘Was he … was he married?’
‘Joanna, please.’
‘Just tell me – was he? Is that why he didn’t want to know?’
‘Yes. Look, keep your voice down. What difference does it make? He’s gone. You heard what she said: he’s dead, Joanna. Can’t you just leave it, please?’ Angela took a few steps towards the door.
‘Leave it? Are you serious, Mum? How would you feel if you’d just found out your whole life had been based on a lie? And the person responsible was your own mother!’
‘It wasn’t like that, Joanna. I did it for your sake … would you rather I’d told you, and he didn’t want anything to do with you? Would you rather that? It was bad enough he rejected me, I didn’t want to put you through it as well.’
‘Well, I think I’d have deserved the chance to find out, don’t you? So, what … he got you pregnant and then went back to his wife, is that it?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘How did she find out?’
Angela looked up. ‘I told her.’
‘You … what did she say?’
‘Not a lot. She listened to what I had to say and then she told me to leave. I have to admit I admired her composure. I didn’t tell her in order to hurt her – I wanted her to know what he’d done. I wanted her to know that I existed.’
‘And she stayed with him despite knowing?’
‘It’s what people did back then.’
‘And that was that? No contact, nothing all those years?’
Angela lifted the end of her dressing gown and crossed the room to where Joanna’s photographs lay scattered on the floor.
‘He wasn’t … he wasn’t a bad person, Joanna. He was young, arrogant, I suppose, yes, but his intent, it wasn’t malicious. He cared for me, I know that – but he couldn’t leave her, it would have meant losing too much.’
‘What do you mean? People do it – they do it all the time. They simply decide what’s most important to them – and clearly we weren’t.’
Angela shook her head. ‘It wasn’t that straightforward. Rachel’s father was the head of the newspaper. He was the one that gave Vince his chance.’ She paused, looked up from the pictures. ‘He was a journalist – covered all the sports events. He took pictures, too. So, you see, you have inherited something from him.’
‘But you must have hated him – he chose Rachel … she was his wife, yes, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have been some part of our lives, of mine. Did he even send you money?’
‘Sometimes. Cheques arrived – no note – nothing to ask me how I was doing, how you were. It was one of the conditions, you see.’
‘What conditions?’
‘Rachel told Vince that he would cut all contact – that it would have to be as though he and I had never met – it was that or she’d tell her father – and Vince could say goodbye to his career.’
‘What – and he was okay with that?’
Angela shrugged. ‘It
